


the Defective Uzumaki

by yunyu



Series: Sakura as Mito's Sister AU [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Arranged Marriage, F/M, Founding of Konoha, MadaSaku Week, Political Alliances
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2018-11-18 13:40:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11291802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yunyu/pseuds/yunyu
Summary: In an AU where their fathers died in the double ambush, Uchiha Madara and Senju Hashirama are able to come to an agreement to found Konoha while still teenagers. Despite being near demigods in battle power, they still struggle to get respect, so Hashirama has the bright idea to make an alliance with Uzushio--including marrying the two daughters of the Uzushio leader, making Hashirama and Madara "real brothers" (much to Tobirama's chagrin).Madara's bride isn't what he was expecting.For one thing, who ever heard of an Uzumaki withpinkhair?(Rating may go up. Inspired by yomi-gaeru's Clan Matriarch AU art; art used with permission.)





	1. Turns Out Making Life-Changing Decisions Based on Spite Can Backfire

**Author's Note:**

> In light of fandom discourse around age gaps and crazy declarations that people should die for writing problematic ships, I'm going to put straight up here that _of course_ I don't think that teenagers should be forced into arranged marriages in real modern life and that great things will result from same. I think it makes an interesting _story_ in a _warring states Japan-inspired fantasy universe_. If you can't handle that concept, turn back now.
> 
> yomi-gaeru's art is used with permission. Thank you yomi-gaeru!!!

_NB: In this AU, Tajima and Butsuma killed each other in the initial double ambush. Hashirama and Madara were able to come to an accord with each other while still youths, and without Tobirama having killed Izuna. Therefore they are founding Konoha while still teenagers._

“Madara!” bellowed Hashirama.

“He’s right in front of you, ani-ja,” said Tobirama coldly.

“Hashirama!” said Madara, nice and loud, enjoying Tobirama’s cynical glare as he and Hashirama clasped each other in a warm embrace. “Why’d you call me over?”

“I got a response from the Uzumaki! They want to accept our offer of alliance!”

“Ah?” Madara sat cross-legged on the tatami mat in front of the chabudai table, and Hashirama mimicked him, while Tobirama knelt _seiza_ , off to the side. “I thought you expected that?”

“I did, but I didn’t expect them to make a counter-offer. They wish to ally their village of Uzushio with Konoha more formally, with marriages between our clans. What a great idea!”

“Our clans?” Madara blinked. “ _Our_ clans?”

Tobirama didn’t move, but Madara didn’t need his Sharingan activated to notice that this marriage alliance was apparently also a surprise to him.

Hashirama busily unfurled an elegant scroll with a marriage contract. “But yes! Luckily the Uzumaki head has two daughters unmarried. Well, of course, you know, co-leaders, that’s sort of a new thing—well, all of this is a new thing, but people are bound to be curious about two clans with such a history of hatred as yours and mine getting together—but you see, if we marry _sisters_ , then it’s like we’ll be _real brothers!_ ”

The contrast between Hashirama’s total body glee at the prospect of being _real brothers_ with Tobirama’s tightly checked misery could not have been starker. Madara could almost laugh, but still, the idea was absurd. 

“And if we’re married men, maybe more people will treat us like actual adults,” Hashirama added as an afterthought.

“If they don’t treat us like adults, then kill them,” Madara scowled. “Who can withstand you and me?”

“Ani-ja,” cut in Tobirama, “is it really wise to bind yourself to someone you know so little about?”

Madara had been thinking more or less the same thing as Tobirama, which was unacceptable. Especially because he knew damn well that Tobirama also meant to imply that Hashirama was being foolish to bind himself to Madara.

“I know enough!” argued Hashirama. “I’ve even met the older one—Mito is her name. She’s the one—” He coughed and rubbed at his face as if he could wipe away his blush. “—she’s the one I’d be marrying… and she’s a very skilled kunoichi already. She can do all the Uzumaki clan jutsu—fuinjutsu, chakra chains—she’ll really be an asset to the new village in her own right…”

“What about mine? Can she do chakra chains?”

“Uh… I don’t think so, but, of course, she’s younger… she could still learn it.”

“Hn.” Madara crossed his arms. “How come you’re getting the older one?”

“Well…” Hashirama twirled his fingers in his hair, which was just starting to brush past his shoulders. “Like I said, we’ve met, and uh… apparently she re…” His lips twitched. “Requested me…”

“Ugh. I wouldn’t want that one anyway then,” retorted Madara, reaching out to take the contract and activating his sharingan so that he would memorize every clause. “What bad taste.”

Tobirama huffed. “So you’d rather get the one that didn’t have a choice?”

Madara glared at Tobirama. “Get used to it, heaven knows it’s the only way they’ll ever corral a wife for you.”

Hashirama laughed but placed a placating hand on his younger brother’s arm at the same time. “You did ask for that one, Tobirama.” He gave a pleading look to Madara, that familiar big-eyed expression that said _play nice, please._

“I’ll do it.” Madara pulled the official Uchiha clanhead seal out of his sleeve and used the paste on the table to put his mark on the contract.

“R-really?” Hashirama was overwhelmed with joy.

“Hn.” Madara rolled up the scroll with a flourish. “So. Real brothers.”

“Haha! Yeah! Real brothers!” laughed Hashirama, grabbing Madara in a side hug that turned almost immediately into a wrestling match that sent Tobirama stalking from the room in a fit.

Hashirama’s joy tasted even sweeter seasoned with Tobirama’s bitterness.

———

“This is absolutely unbelievable!” his great-uncle Saizou said, smacking the table with the flat of his palm. “If your father was alive, this would never have happened.”

“If my father was alive and you raised your voice to him,” Madara said, studying his nails, “you would be dead before you finished your sentence.”

Saizou, who had never unlocked his Sharingan and was present only in courtesy to his advanced years and close relation to a former clan head, sputtered a bit and then silenced himself as Madara made eye contact.

“Fortunately for you and the entire world,” Madara said, not bothering to activate his Sharingan, “I am more conciliatory than he was.”

“Madara-sama,” Benmaru broke in with an anxious wheedle, “we understand that you have already put your name and the honour of our clan to this agreement, but perhaps there is a way to avoid the problem? This Uzumaki girl will be your wife, certainly, but you can take a more suitable Uchiha girl as a concubine to bear your heirs. To permit an outsider to pollute the bloodline—”

“And which girl would I take?”

That immediately set them all to glancing at each other, rather than him, as he knew it would. Each branch of the clan would want one of _their_ daughters to be, if not in name, then in fact to be the Uchiha matriarch, whereby she could obtain favours for her kin in the bedroom.

Madara stood up. “When you are all in unanimous agreement,” he said, “come and consult with me again. In the meantime, Saizou-ji-san, please have Keiko-ba-san continue to work with the Senju women on preparing for the wedding. I’ll be back from my mission in good time.”

———

Didn’t this pink haired girl do anything but cry?

He heard the noise before the bridal carriage door even opened. She was crying as her older sister Mito coaxed her to put on a watery smile as she greeted her soon-to-be husband and brother-in-law and their respective clans; weeping throughout the wedding; sniffling during the banquet; and when Madara entered the bridal chamber, he wasn’t surprised to find her shaking with sobs in the corner, pressing her face into a pillow and probably ruining it. Hashirama’s woman had shed a few tears for luck at the ceremony, but this was ridiculous. Could this day get any worse?

When she lifted her tear-streaked face to him and saw that he was holding a kunai, she began to scream.

Okay, it could get worse.

“Will you shut up?” he ground out. He never should have let Hashirama talk him into this. One girl should have been enough to secure the alliance with Whirlpool. At least Hashirama’s Uzumaki was their age. “This isn’t for you.”

She abruptly stopped screaming, but the tears kept flowing. He sighed, walked over to the bed, and pricked his finger open over the sheets. How much blood was there supposed to be, anyway? It’s not like he made a habit of deflowering virgins.

A breath of _katon_ heated air set the stain instantly, and he bandaged his finger grumpily.

“I’m sorry,” said a small voice.

“For what?” he said as he put out the lanterns except for the one by his side of the bed. In the near darkness he stripped down to his undergarments and pulled a shift over his head.

“I’m… a bad match.”

It was so pathetic and quiet, especially since she more or less said it into the pillow. Despite having just been thinking pretty much the same thing, Madara couldn’t just go along with it. “Why do you say that?”

“Well… I’m too young.”

He grunted. “You’ll get older. It won’t matter ten years from now.”

“And my hair is all wrong.”

“What's wrong with it?”

She sniffled. “Uzumaki hair is supposed to be red.”

“Pink is a shade of red.”

“It’s a _weak_ shade of red. Uzumaki are supposed to be strong.”

“Wel, you’re an Uchiha now. So you’re better than any Uzumaki.”

She cautiously peeked one eye over the pillow at him. “Did they tell you I’m not any good at _fuinjutsu_?”

“I didn’t ask. I don’t care about it myself.”

She perked up a little, then deflated again. “They probably didn’t tell you I can’t do chakra chains either.”

“No, that I asked about. Pity, but that’s how it is. Maybe your sister can teach you. Anything else?”

Sakura hid her face completely again and muttered something.

“What?”

“My forehead,” she said, only barely loud enough to be heard.

He pulled the covers back on the bed to get in. “What about it?”

“It’s huge!”

Madara peered at the girl, but it was too dark to see her clearly. “I’ll look again in the morning but I don’t remember it being anything extraordinary. Is that all?”

“And… I’m a crybaby.”

“Hn. Well. That part could be improved.” Madara put a hand to the lantern and paused. “I can’t sleep with you huddled over there. Get into the bed and sleep.”

She scampered into the bed like a frightened rabbit, still fully dressed, and yanked the blanket over herself. He chuckled and did likewise, lying with his back facing her. “Goodnight, Sakura-chan.”

Twenty minutes later, she was still awake, and therefore so was he. His battle-trained body was unable to relax knowing that a stranger was still awake in the room, even one as harmless as this little waif.

He turned over. Damned if she wasn’t _still crying._ “What is it now?”

She hiccuped. “I can’t sleep without my doll.”

Hashirama was a _dead_ man. “Aren’t you too old for that?!”

“I j-just… I hold her when I’m scared…”

“Hn.” He turned over. “Well, hold onto me then. I’m a lot more useful against a threat than a doll.”

Nothing happened for a minute, and then she slowly scooted up to his back, and a wet face pressed against his back while a little arm flung itself over his side as if needing to do so quickly to avoid losing the nerve to do so. But within minutes, her breathing evened out into sleep.

Despite himself, he smiled and did likewise.


	2. Rabbits and Foxes

Madara thought he had been saddled with a timid little rabbit as a wife. It didn’t take long for him to figure out that was wrong.

The only rabbit-like thing about Sakura was her frequent choice of big red hair bow. She quickly became best friends with two cousins of his about her age and the three of them—two dark heads and one pink one—were soon scrambling all over the nascent Konoha and its environs, sometimes joined by other Uchiha girls of varying ages or even Senju ones. Madara treated Sakura with benign neglect. He was often away, performing missions for funding, while the more diplomatic Hashirama attempted to entice other clans to join their new experiment of a ninja village. Even when he was in the village, he generally only saw her at meals and bedtime, when she would talk his ear off about her training and adventures. He generally only half-listened.

Nobody was more surprised than Madara when he began to miss her chatter when he was away on missions.

She was bossy, and she had a temper, but these were faults he shared and probably indulged in more than she did.

Keeping a wife got more aggravating as she got older.

“I think somebody has a crush.” Izuna’s sing-song voice was pitched irritatingly high.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Madara grunted. “Are we ready to head out?”

“Oh come on, at least give her a little wave. It’s adorable.” Izuna gestured with his eyebrows and a slight shift of the head, and Madara glanced at what he had been avoiding looking at: Sakura, practically radiating hearts and rainbows at them.

She squealed when she noticed she had been noticed. “Danna-sama! Izuna-nii-san! Goodbye! Have a good mission!”

The two girls with her giggled. “Madara-sama! Izuna-sama! Have a safe mission!”

The redness in his ears was due to the heat of the day. _Not_ embarrassment.

———

Time passed. The village prospered. On the surface, all was peaceful.

But in prosperity, some looked to gather weapons for the future. And no weapon could compare to the Uchiha eyes.

This had always been a danger. But there had never been something so orchestrated as the fake mission where the supposed client had used a ruse to separate Madara and Izuna from each other. Two huge forces were waiting to ambush them both. That… had not ended well for the attackers, or for the forest that the ambush had taken place in, or for the neighbouring town that had caught fire from the forest and burnt to cinders—fortunately with enough warning from the forest fire that the townspeople were able to evacuate with vital possessions.

Hashirama took them in, of course, although it was Tobirama who had to handle setting them up in the unused, fertile farmlands surrounding the village. Not without a lot of snide comments about fire jutsu either.

Neither Madara nor his brother received more than minor injuries, but it had been an exhausting fight from the sheer number of attackers and he had expended a lot of chakra, so he decided to stick close to the village for a while and deal with clan business.

“Danna-sama! I’m going to pick berries with Hinoka-chan and the others!”

Madara rubbed at the bags under his eyes but managed a small wave. He smiled down at his tea cup as the girls laughter could be heard getting fainter as they left the compound. Such a carefree excursion would have been unimaginable ten years ago. _Maybe this world will be alright…_

When he finished his breakfast, he went to sit with his council for a meeting to discuss the situation. It was obvious that Madara and Izuna, with their Mangekyo Sharingan, would be the biggest target to have their doujutsu stolen, but after giving such a demonstration of their power, enemies might move on to target clan members with regular Sharingan. 

Madara had no idea just how unscrupulous their enemies truly were.

A flare of chakra and his brother Izuna was there in the open window. “Madara! There’s been an attack on the girls!”

———

Even chakra exhuasted, they left the other council members in the dust as Madara followed Izuna to the scene.

“I don’t know everything,” Izuna called over his shoulder, “I don’t think they got away with any of the girls, but most of them are hurt, some of them badly. It was Tobirama who sensed the battle and raised the alarm.”

Having to be grateful to Tobirama for anything was going to be a real bitch, but he somehow didn’t care. “What about Sakura?”

Izuna didn’t answer for a moment, but then he said, “I know she’s hurt, nii-san, so that’s why I came to get you…”

They ended up in the makeshift hospital area of Konoha. Madara weaved through crying girls clinging to their parents to where a healer was applying a bandage to Sakura’s face, an armoured Senju standing silent guard nearby.

She turned her face up to him silently. It was swollen as if she had been smacked in the face, and though the healers had cleaned the wounds, there was still dirt in her clothes as if she had been thrown into the ground. Her once waist-length hair had been cut very short and jaggedly—by a sword? And tears were falling from her eyes—only one was open, the other perhaps forced shut by the swelling.

Without thinking about it, he tenderly wiped the tears from her open eye, and then took her into a gentle embrace. Rage was swirling in his heart, but he would not show even one particle of it to her.

“You can take her home now, Madara-sama,” said the healer. “All she really needs now is rest.”

“Aa.” Madara lifted Sakura into his arms.

“I can walk—” she whispered.

“Rest,” he commanded, but not harshly.

She fell asleep before they made it back to the main house of the compound, so he simply laid her into their bed. He put up the _amado_ storm shutters around that part of the house, making the inside very dark, with only a little light filtering through cracks. Then he laid down next to her sleeping form and placed a hand protectively on her while his sharingan activated with the force of his rage.

_They will pay._

———

Madara didn’t ask his wife a single question about the attack—she needed her rest—but he did not afford the same consideration to the rest of his kinswomen. He needed facts quickly to go after them.

Maddeningly, the girls mostly wanted to talk about Sakura.

“She could have gotten away, Madara-sama!” said Hinoka. Her leg was elevated for her shattered ankle and the pain medications she was on made her repeat herself a lot. “Sakura-sama… they said ‘let the pink one go, she’s not an Uchiha,’ but she just said, ‘Shannaro! I am too!’ and she punched one of them—wham! And then we all started fighting back too…”

“Were they wearing forehead protectors?” Madara pursued, attempting to keep his patience.

“And one of them grabbed Sakura-sama by her hair!” Hinoka continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “And he started yelling that if the rest of us didn’t give in he was going to slit her throat—” The image made Madara’s sharingan activate, but Hinoka wasn’t paying attention. “—but Sakura-sama had a kunai she had wrestled away from one of them and she cut off her own hair to get free! Sakura-sama is amazing!”

“Hinoka!” Madara barked. He didn’t have time for this. When Hinoka looked at his sharingan, he helped himself to her memories.

———

_When will you come back, nii-san? It’s been a year._ _We all miss you. I can’t rule the clan like you can. Surely our enemies have learned they can’t hope to escape you by now?_

Madara blew a katon over the letter when he finished reading it, then smiled. Yes, it was indeed time to go back.

Utterly destroying those who had dared to think they could kidnap innocent Uchiha girls and kill his matriarch as if she were common trash was the work of only a few weeks. That was not the main problem.

He needed a weapon beyond the Sharingan, something so frightening that no one would ever _dare_ to think of attacking Konoha ever again.

And now he had it.

“You’re docile now, aren’t you, my pet?” Madara chuckled, laying a hand on the massive snout of the Nine Tails. “I will ride you home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The scene of Sakura and her friends being attacked is directly inspired by [yomi-gaeru's brilliant comic](https://www.pixiv.net/member_illust.php?mode=manga&illust_id=60022355) and used with permission.


	3. Go Big or Go Home

Madara’s triumphant homecoming did not go exactly as he envisioned.

He was focusing so much on controlling the beast that the sudden attack of twisting wood got the drop on him utterly.

“Dammit Hashirama, don’t kill it!” he shouted, leaping off the beast’s back towards Hashirama’s unmistakable chakra. “Do you know how long it took me to track this thing?”

“Madara?” Hashirama lowered his hands, but kept them in the seal shape. The Nine Tails was caged, but at least not being strangled anymore. “Is it really you, my friend?”

The question made some sense. Madara’s hair had grown a great deal, flowing wildly down his back, and he was still dressed in the ordinary traveling clothes he had used while tracking down his enemies, instead of his distinctive Uchiha clan dress. Hashirama, too, was taller and his hair was longer than before, though he was still dressed in the white robes without any clan mark that he had taken as uniform when they founded Konoha.

“It’s him alright,” Tobirama said, stepping forward. The difference a year had made for his friend’s younger brother was even more striking. Not only had he equalled Madara in height, he had a white fur slung around his broad shoulders. Even more surprising, his face was now marred with three thick red lines. Scars? But they were very precisely placed on his face. He was no longer a scrawny youth; he now looked as dangerous as Madara already knew him to be in battle.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I could have killed him!” Hashirama scolded his brother, dropping his hands out of the seal and rushing forward to embrace Madara.

Madara was now short enough compared to Hashirama that he could only just see Tobirama’s scowl over his friend’s shoulder. “Because _that_ thing’s massive evil chakra was enough to render even _his_ disgusting aura a mere blip.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Hashirama released Madara out of the hug. “What _is_ that thing, Madara? You know, I was about to eat when Tobirama made me drop everything to stop it from attacking the village! You owe me a lunch, my friend! Mito will not be pleased with you!”

“It’s a tailed beast, ani-ja,” said Tobirama, stealing Madara’s thunder. “You should kill it. That thing only brings destruction and evil. Something with a destructive nature can’t be kept around. I’ve told you that over and over.”

Hashirama glanced uneasily between Madara and his younger brother and Madara got the sense that the recurring conversation Tobirama was referring to about something with an inherently evil nature referred instead to Madara, an impression only underlined by Hashirama’s protest. “That’s—that’s nonsense, Tobirama!”

“I control it with the sharingan,” said Madara.

“And what happens when you sleep?” Tobirama challenged.

Madara scoffed. “My genjutsu isn’t so feeble. It’ll last as long as I want it to.”

“The weak point of any genjutsu is the caster. When you are disrupted—fine, _if_ you are disrupted,” Tobirama waved off Madara’s certain objection, “what happens to the village when the beast takes its revenge upon its former master?”

“That won’t occur.”

“It’s at least a possibility, can you deny that?”

“I bring you a weapon that will _end war,”_ Madara snarled to Hashirama, “and this is his response to me?”

“Madara, Tobirama always thinks of every possibility, you should know that. Besides, my friend, isn’t this a great strain on you? Your eyes…”

“He won’t go blind from a single attack,” Tobirama said bluntly.

“I cannot believe you! I spend a year… I’m willing to go blind for the village, but _he_ continuously challenges me!” Madara told Hashirama. “I thought we were partners!”

“You didn’t consult him before you left the village on your mad scheme, before you left him to lead all alone—”

“Be quiet, Tobirama,” Hashirama said, distressed. 

“I will not, anija! He is insane! You cannot seriously be considering letting that thing near the village!”

“You may have gotten taller,” Madara began, stepping forward, but Hashirama threw up a hand between them.

“Both of you, stop this! Tobirama, you have no room to talk about _insanity_ or _evil_ after that experiment in _necromancy_ that Touka discovered you researching.”

Tobirama’s face flushed but he was silent.

“And Madara, Tobirama is right that you haven’t consulted with me at all about this. Why did you never mention it in your letters? Are we not friends?”

Madara avoided Hashirama’s big brown eyes.

“You both love our village, and you both love me—can you not reconcile even a little?” Hashirama cajoled them both. “I trust you both—trust in my trust!”

Neither man spoke. Hashirama sighed, and stepped over to the hypnotized Nine Tails.

“Madara, can you release it for a moment? I need to know if my Wood Release can contain it.”

Madara hesitated, but dropped the genjutsu. Within moments, the Nine Tails was roaring and struggling against Hashirama’s jutsu. The beams broke but regrew in a continuous, living cage, and the beast could not break free.

“You dare cage me! I’ll kill you all! I’ll destroy you and lay waste to your puny human world! Every single—”

It met Madara’s gaze for the briefest of moments and subsided into docility again.

“That chakra is incredible,” Tobirama said with a grudging respect.

“Release it,” Madara said. “Let me show you how it fights.”

“I have heard of it,” Hashirama said. “He destroyed Mt. Akagi, they say, with only a sweep of his tails, and the debris raised a tsunami that sank Miyake island. The Tailed Beasts kill thousands every year, and he is the worst of them. Sooner or later, Tobirama, we would need to deal with it. We are blessed to have Madara’s power to do so. The question is what to do with it long term.”

“There is no question,” Madara argued. “I can keep his power under control forever.”

“But if the other nations know we have such a power, will they not band together against us?” Tobirama said, but his voice was not so combative as before.

“We need to come together, and consult together, and solve this problem together,” Hashirama said. “Is that not why we founded a village?”

Madara smiled despite himself at Hashirama’s cheer, and his grin widened when Hashirama added, “So… can we ride this back to the village? Because that looked _so cool_!”

Tobirama rolled his eyes.

———

Tobirama declined riding the Nine Tails, choosing instead to go forward to calm the fears of the other villagers, so Madara had some all too rare time with just Hashirama atop the Nine Tails’ back. They became like boys again, daring each other into ridiculous stunts of handstands and other balancing acts on the undulating surface of the galloping beast. It was almost too soon that they came within sight of Konoha.

“So, the InoShikaChou clans joined us?” Madara said, the sight of the little hamlet bringing him back to more adult concerns.

Hashirama was sitting cross-legged with one hand grasping the fox’s ear, his white Hokage robes now thoroughly coated in red hairs. “Aa. They’re still a bit reclusive, but they should be a fine addition.”

“Since their ancestral lands are so close to the village, it was inevitable they either join or be destroyed.”

“My friend, you are so quick to threaten destruction.” Hashirama clucked. “Most people want to live in peace.”

“But most people don’t care if that peace is at the expense of another,” Madara countered. “Anyway, we’re here.”

A large number of people were gathered outside the gate, most staring in awe at the approach of the Nine Tails.

But a few were not so impressed.

“What is this nonsense?” demanded a feminine voice.

Hashirama scrambled up and hopped down off the beast. “Mito-chan, darling—”

Mito gaped at him. “I was taking a nap with the baby and this is what I wake up to—look at your robes! Treating a tailed beast like a pet dog!”

“Onee-chan, at least give them a chance to explain.”

Madara had been looking among the Uchiha for a little pink head, but instead Sakura was standing at her sister’s side, a large grumpy baby with bright red hair on her hip. Sakura smiled at Madara, blushed, and looked at the ground. Hashirama reached for the baby but Mito got between them.

“Not until you get changed out of those nasty things!”

“Mito,” Hashirama whined, “I only get to introduce our son to his uncle _one time.”_

He was hitting Mito full force with those big eyes, and even the hotheaded Senju matriarch couldn’t resist, it seemed. “Alright, but you’re washing him straight away afterwards.”

“Look, Madara! Isn’t he amazing!” Hashirama swung the child up into the air and then held him out for Madara to take. “His name is Isshi.”

He may have had a massive demon under his thrall, but Madara was absolutely at a loss when holding his friend’s baby, especially when that baby almost immediately began to scream.

“It looks like an enraged tomato,” Madara said.

“I knew I never liked you!” snapped Mito.

“The feeling is mutual!” Madara said back, and expected to see her explode with rage, but instead she smirked as if amused.

“Nii-san!” Izuna barrelled forward and nearly knocked his brother off his feet with his embrace. He was only a little shorter than Madara now. His long hair was tied in a low ponytail. “To control such a thing! You are incredible!”

“It still remains to be seen whether he can sustain that control, Izuna,” Tobirama said. “Or what exerting that control might do to him.”

_Does he know about the risk of blindness?_ Izuna’s face and attitude might not have seemed off to anyone else, but to his beloved brother the signs of unease, perhaps guilt, could clearly be read. _Why would Izuna tell our weakness to Tobirama?! Or did Tobirama find it out somehow… from spying upon him?_

“We will come up with a solution together!” Hashirama declared loudly, and the mood of the crowd brightened. He was such a natural leader. “But for now, I want to celebrate the return of my brother-in-law! Let’s have a party, my friends!”

———

The “party” wasn’t much of one for Madara. He had to be on constant guard to make sure his control on the Nine Tails didn’t slip. It was a low drain on his attention and chakra, but it had to be absolutely continuous. What’s more, everyone in the village, including his own clan, gave him a wide berth, with two exceptions: Hashirama, who was continuously bringing over people to be introduced; and his brother Izuna, who seemed afraid that Madara might do something disruptive as the tedious night wore on.

“And this is Sarutobi Sasuke! He is the heir to a clan that just joined us last month! Excellent fire jutsu users, like yourself!” Hashirama said as he delivered another person to where Madara was slouched against a pillar, still attempting to finish his rice, which had already gone cold.

Madara lowered the chopsticks once again. “Hn. Nice to meet you.”

“Uchiha-sama,” the short young man said with a bow. “The honour is all mine! I have been on only one mission with your clansmen since we joined Konoha, but your jutsus are incredible!”

The man nattered at some length about his own interest in jutsu development, and how he was joining Tobirama and Izuna were working together to develop techniques. As his mouth ran on and on, a short but very fierce looking woman strolled by them, and Madara noticed the two of them exchanging a glance. Then all of a sudden Sasuke ran out of steam, took a breath, and said, “Oh! And, uh, I suppose, as a clan head, uh… that is, I am of age to be… looking for a bride, and—”

Madara cut him off. “I’m afraid Uchiha don’t marry outside the clan.”

Sasuke was thrown, and he glanced over Madara’s shoulder. “You don’t? But…”

Izuna, sitting behind him, coughed, and when Madara turned to look at his brother, he saw that Sasuke must have been glancing at Madara’s very much non-Uchiha wife, a pink braid having escaped its fastenings and brushing against the Uchiha crest on her collar. She was laughing at something one of his cousins was saying.

“Others may marry in, but we never marry out,” Madara clarified. “We need to keep our doujutsu safe. You understand?”

“Ah. Yes. Of course. Well…”

It was the most awkward end to a conversation so far. Madara was glad some hours later when the party finally wound down enough for him to take his leave.

He was looking for his wife to inform her when Izuna tugged at his sleeve. “Nii-san, your wife has been staying with her sister.”

“Oh…” Madara didn’t know how things were being run in his own household. It did make sense though; with her pregnancy and young baby, Mito probably appreciated her sister’s help and companionship. He didn’t begrudge her that. “But I’m here now.”

“Yes, but I think she left early to help with Isshi-kun’s bedtime.”

“How many women does it take to deal with one baby?” Madara was being petulant, and he knew it, which only made him grumpier.

Izuna’s slight smile said he saw it all. “Well, Mito-san is very troubled with nausea, just like last time, I think. It makes her temper worse, I’ve noticed.”

“Just like last time… what, already?!”

“Already what?” said Hashirama curiously, popping up out of nowhere like a damn weed and slinging an arm around Madara.

“I believe my brother is impressed by your virility,” Izuna remarked dryly, “and wishes to congratulate you.”

“Well, congratulations, but it’s not as if it isn’t done every day,” Madara huffed.

Hashirama laughed and fluffed at Madara’s mane affectionately. “Then how come I’m on number two and you haven’t even managed the first, eh? I’m leaving you behind, Uchiha!”

“ _When_ I have a son, he’ll be a damn sight better than any _Senju_ could sire _._ ”

It ought to have been seen as banter between two good friends, but Madara’s harsh growl carried across the room, and all the Senju within it turned to glower at Madara, only excepting Tobirama, whose usual aloof sneer did not alter, and Hashirama, who remained oblivious as he roared with laughter.

“Ha! Well! Hurry it up then!”

“Nii-san,” said Izuna uneasily, “let’s go home.”

Madara was not oblivious to the hostile stares. He swept his gaze across the room, noting with pleasure how everyone hurriedly averted their eyes in fear of his doujutsu—again excepting Tobirama, who was not looking at him to begin with. He pushed Hashirama’s arm off his shoulder. “Aa.”

———

Izuna slid the door shut behind him.

“How do you sleep without breaking the genjutsu?”

Madara began inspecting the bed linens and futon to see if the servants had sufficiently aired it out. “Hn. Instead of sleeping I enter a deep meditative state.”

His younger brother knelt down on the tatami mat watching Madara get ready for bed with a troubled frown. “Is that really safe?”

“Of course. I have not lost control of the thing in all these weeks and that will not change.”

“No, I mean, is it safe not to sleep?”

Madara smiled at his little brother. “You don’t have to worry about me. Are you getting enough sleep yourself?”

“Aa.” Izuna smiled. “It’s good to have you home.”

“It’s changed quite a bit around here. You’ve gotten taller.”

Izuna beamed. “I think I have. So have you, a little.”

“Not as much as Hashirama,” Madara grumbled. “Damn, even Tobirama seems like he’s going to be taller than me… what the hell did he do to his face, anyway?”

“Ah… that was unpleasant… Tobirama was… Tobirama-san sustained some injuries on a mission.”

“Injuries?” Madara scoffed. “How the hell do you get hit in battle on your face so that it leaves a perfect straight line…”

He trailed off because Izuna’s face made the puzzle piece click into place. _Torture._

“I’m glad you asked me in private,” Izuna replied quietly. “Hashirama-san took it very hard.”

Even with the disdain he feels for Tobirama, Madara can completely empathize with Hashirama’s guilt at Tobirama’s injuries, since it is the same way he would feel if anything ever happened to his only remaining brother.

“Nii-san, there was something else I wanted to tell you privately… you may not react well. It’s about the Hyuuga.”

“Have they been seen in the area again? Hn. Well, maybe that’s not so bad after all… now there’s a clan I’d love to demonstrate my pet’s power against…” Madara’s eyes flickered briefly into Sharingan as he remembered the last time he had clashed with the Hyuuga and their inferior mutant doujutsu.

“It’s the opposite of what you’re thinking, nii-san,” Izuna said. “Tobirama has written—I mean, there was a clash, but Hashirama-san was able to make their warriors stand down and then Tobirama-san wrote a letter suggesting a truce…”

“Tch. As if you can trust such as them in a truce.”

“Nii-san, let me finish!” Izuna crossed his arms in a cute pout, and Madara had to bite his inner lip to keep from chuckling, but his next words wiped all amusement away. “The Hyuuga wrote back with a counter-proposal that they join the village, and Hashirama-san has already written back to agree.”

_“What?!”_ roared Madara.

Izuna raised his hands. “Please, calm down Nii-san.”

“Calm down? Calm down? The Hyuuga are monsters! Look at how they treat their own clan members—you think people like that won’t be even more depraved in how they treat the village?” Madara got up and began redressing.

Izuna stood up too. “Wait, where are you going?”

“Over to see Hashirama,” Madara snarled. “If he’s already sent the letter then there’s no time to waste.”

“It’s late at night! You can’t go charging over to the Hokage Tower in a state like this—Tobirama is probably monitoring you and he’ll notice and then, well…”

“Tobirama is probably _monitoring_ me? What do you mean by that?!”

“Well…! Only that he’s an excellent sensor... I didn’t mean it as something to take offence at!”

“Izuna, why the hell _wouldn’t_ I take offence at that Senju dog _spying_ on me? What’s gotten into you? You, who opposed the treaty more than any in the clan…!” Fully dressed, if not exactly winning any points for neatness, Madara stared down his silent brother for a few moments before pushing past him and leaving for the Tower.

Tobirama did not intercept Madara on his way, but at the door to the residential portion of the complex, there he was, leaning against it.

“Uchiha.”

“I’m not here to see you.”

Tobirama didn’t move. “I don’t think you should be disturbing my sister-in-law’s rest. I know the basics of civilized behaviour don’t come to you naturally, so I’m here to spell them out.”

“I don’t need any lessons from _you._ It’s hardly even late, and Hashirama was still drinking when I left.”

“I know,” Tobrama said, still not moving. “He drinks more than he should. And then he sleeps. Deeply. Which is what he’s doing now. So if you bang on this door—”

The door abruptly opened, and Tobirama nearly fell backwards in surprise, but he was pushed back up by a small pair of hands.

“Madara-sama! You came to take me home, of course!” Sakura said, neatly sidestepping around Tobirama and beaming at her husband. “I’m sorry! Onee-chan had to go suddenly so I took Isshi-kun and went with her and then I just fell into the usual routine. I’ve put you to a lot of trouble, making you come to get me!” She turned and bowed briefly to Tobirama. “Tobirama-sama! I think everyone else is asleep, so you had better go home! Goodbye!”

She was lugging a large bag with two hands, and set off towards the Uchiha district without actually waiting to see if Madara was following her, which only made sense if she just assumed he was going to. With only a moment to decide, he opted to follow, leaving Tobirama behind without a goodbye.

“Let me take your bag,” he said to his wife’s back.

“No, I’m very strong,” she said cheerfully without turning around. They passed out of the shadow of the tower and into the moonlight.

“You’re wearing _jinbei,_ ” Madara said, scandalized.

She did turn her head at that, looking over her shoulder at him. The loose blue traditional pajamas stopped well above her knees. “Well, yes. I was asleep.”

“You’re wearing _jinbei,_ ” he repeated, catching up with her and looking around for any prying eyes he would need to eliminate. “Outside.”

“It’s a hot night, I won’t get sick,” she asserted blithely. “I'm also very tough.” She peeped up at him through her lashes. “You weren’t around so you wouldn’t know.”

Before Madara could gather his thoughts to explain that it was not her getting sick that he was worried about, she was speaking again.

“Anyway, shouldn’t you be thanking me, for getting you out of that situation? I don’t think you thought it through, Madara-sama. It could only have ended with Onee-chan screaming and Isshi-kun screaming and Onii-sama sleeping like a log, which would be bad for him the next day, I can tell you. Well! I guess I was finally able to do something useful.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, Onee-chan is always saying that being a wife to an important man means being ‘diplomatically astute’.” She was slowed down now to lug the case up a slope. “I didn’t think I would be very good at it. Although, to tell the truth, I don’t think _she’s_ always that good at it either.”

“You really should let me take that,” Madara said, and this time put his action over her protests and pulled it from her grip. “What’s in this? Rocks?”

“Just my things,” she huffed. “If it’s too heavy for you I can take it back!”

He was glad Izuna wasn’t waiting around when they returned to the compound, especially because when they got in, took off their shoes, and Madara set down her case, Sakura gripped him around the waist. But not at all in a lover-like manner.

“What are you doing?!”

She puffed and grunted in exertion. “I’m trying to lift you!”

Madara looked down. Her face was turning as pink as her hair as she struggled to get leverage. He crossed his arms and laughed.

She released him and huffed again. “You’re heavier than you look! I am actually really strong! Everyone says so!”

“Hn. Well. Now that you’ve worn yourself out, you should sleep.”

“You just wait until I manage the seal,” she grumbled, but got into bed without any further incident.

Even if he hadn’t needed to remain awake, brooding over so many things would have kept him up. This was not at all how he envisioned his triumphant return home going. Only Izuna had seemed truly impressed by his amazing feat, and yet even Izuna had seemed more concerned with calming Madara down and running interference between him and the rest of the village. Hashirama gave the impression that all he cared about was that Madara was back—not exactly something he could hate his friend for, but very frustrating. And everyone else acted like they had been getting along just fine without him. Even his own clan! Ungrateful fools!

Sakura made a little snorty noise in her sleep and rolled over onto her side.

And then there was Sakura… She may still be short, but she had definitely done a lot of growing up in his year away. She wasn’t just cute… she was _cute._ Especially with her _jinpei_ riding up in her sleep and exposing a hint of her back.

She had blushed and seemed very womanly when he first saw her, but her attitude coming back from the Tower had been the opposite of a lover. Nor was she his worshipful little shadow, like she had been before he left. What was she now?

Madara blew out air in a stream. This was the least restful meditation session ever.

———

This time, at least, Madara sensed Sakura before she came up the mountain and sat down next to him.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hn.”

“Um.” She drew circles on the rock with her finger. “I was wondering if you might like to have a spar with me.”

He looked down at her. “A spar? You fight?”

“Mm-hmm!” She looked up and grinned. “Izuna-sama has been teaching me, plus Onee-chan, of course, and even Onii-sama sometimes, even though he’s busy…”

“Hn. Very busy.” Madara looked back out at the village. “Hashirama the great leader. He can handle it all.”

“Um… you seemed pretty angry about the council vote…”

“Council.” Madara’s mouth twisted. “I come back and suddenly this council, that I had no knowledge of, has set itself up and thinks it can order everything around!”

“Is it such a bad idea, though? I mean… if you’re worried about Onee-chan’s seal being able to hold the tailed beast, you don’t have to. She’s the absolute best at sealing! As good as our grandfather—maybe even better!”

“ _I_ can hold the tailed beast! Why doesn’t anyone see that?!”

“If you never sleep, it can’t be good for you, Madara-sama… I think that is what Onii-sama, and Izuna-sama worry…”

“Tch. Maybe those two, but no one else in this village seems to have given a damn whether I’m even here.” He tossed a rock over the cliff and watched it plummet.

“Hey! You should at least say three!”

He looked at her again. She was looking very cross with her arms folded, and he smiled. “Sorry, I guess I’m still not used to having a wife.”

“Well, if you want to get used to it, you kind of need to actually stick around…” She blushed and continued in a slightly higher voice as she stood up and brushed dust off her clothes. “Anyway! That goes for the village too, you just need to get used to them, and they’ll get used to you! I know that means you’ll have to go along with some crap from the village for now, but the only alternative is going off again, and you’re not going to do that. Right?”

Going off again had been exactly what he had been brooding about doing. Taking the nine tails and demonstrating his control and power with it, perhaps on that upstart Reta with his pathetic Sand village. Then they’d have to admit he was right. They’d come crawling and begging for his leadership then!

He looked up at Sakura’s bright smiling face.

“So let’s have a spar!” she said cheerfully. “Winner gets my bento of inarizushi!”

Madara began to laugh. “That’s a big mistake… that’s my favourite, so I won’t hold back…”

She winked. “Then I won’t hold back either! Let’s go!”

“Hn. Alright.” He got up. “Let’s see how well you dance.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by [yomi-gaeru](http://yomi-gaeru.tumblr.com) is used with permission! Thank you for your inspiration!


	4. Making Decisions Based On Love Will Pay Off

Sparring with someone can put you at high risk of falling in lust with them.

The grace and the power, the curves of muscles and skin glistening with sweat. Pressing up and  against them, their scent in your nostrils, their hair brushing against you, their kunai jabbing into your forearm.

Ouch.

“I am _so sorry!_ " Sakura said, the fierce light of battle in her eyes gone in a moment.

“Your aim is getting better,” Madara said, hoping his hair was covering the redness in his ears from his embarrassment at letting himself be so distracted.

One hand glowed green as she knitted the skin back together while pulling slowly and steadily on the kunai so that it popped out at last leaving not even a blemish behind.

“Shall we go home and have lunch?”

“Come now, one misstep doesn’t end the dance." Hypocritically, he deeply enjoyed the rosy blush that spread over Sakura’s face as she stood up and took a defensive position.

———

Madara had barged into the Hokage’s office to scream at Hashirama about a client’s ridiculous request, but the wind was completely knocked out of his sails when he threw open the door to reveal his friend snoring with his face squashed against his own inkstone.

“Hashirama?” Madara said, with no response, but when he touched his friend’s shoulder, the man flailed awake, throwing the brush that had been loosely grasped in his hand into the air, where it imbedded itself in the ceiling for a moment before coming down in a shower of plaster flakes. Almost half his face was blackened by the ink, which went well with the dark circle visible under the uninked eye.

“Madara?” Hashirama blinked at him and rubbed his face, which only served to spread the ink across more of his face and onto his hands as well. The plaster flakes in his hair made it look like he had been standing in a light snow. “I wasn’t sleeping.”

It was such a blatant, obvious, and indefensible lie that Madara could only gape at him.

Hashirama wilted. “I’m so tired…” He leaned his stained face onto his dirty hands on his messy desk.

Madara swallowed his complaint and sat across the desk from him. “Tell me, my friend.”

Hashirama laid it all out. Isshi-kun didn’t sleep and wouldn’t take anyone's comfort but him or Mito… Mito needed sleep for the baby soon to come… Hashirama had to sign _everything_ … Tobirama was _up_ to something but Touka said it wasn’t his business but what could it _be_ … the Inuzuka and the Nara were feuding about land boundaries… Isshi-kun didn’t sleep… would the seal hold through labour… the Sand village was making threats with their own One Tailed beast which they had sealed in a relative of the Kazekage… how to solve the problem of distributing the other tailed beasts when there more nations than beasts… Isshi-kun _didn’t sleep…_

The torrent of words abruptly slowed to a trickle and Hashirama slumped dejectedly. “But what can be done about any of it?”

“I think there’s too much responsibility being placed on you,” Madara said. “People can’t expect you to do everything.”

“Oh yes they can,” Hashirama said miserably. “Everyone loves me. I’m the best and I can do it all.” He punctuated this modest self-assessment with a pained moan.

“Well, then, maybe this village needs someone they all hate. Someone who’s the worst and who will tell them it can’t be done,” Madara said bluntly. “Me.”

Hashirama looked at him with half-opened bleary eyes. “How do you mean?”

“We’re supposed to be co-leaders, aren’t we? I think it’s time that we actually be the team we intended to be when we dreamed up this village.”

“You _are_ my co-leader,” Hashirama said, frowning. “I handle the internal and you handle the external, right?”

“I don’t think that’s working,” Madara said. “Look, you and I both have our strengths and our weaknesses. You’re the bridge builder, I’m the bridge burner. We need both. And I think right now we need a little more naysaying here in the village.”

The Uchiha reached over and picked through the desk to a scroll with the Inuzuka clan seal visible. “Like those dogs and deer expecting you to referee whose animals get to piss against which tree. That’s ridiculous. Tell them to sort it out themselves. Katon!”

Hashirama’s blackened eyes went wide as Madara burned the scroll. “I didn’t even read that!”

“I know. Burn them all and send the ashes back and tell them to use it as fertilizer. Next. The Sand. Reta can boast all he wants but he’s a fool. He’s got the One Tail sealed inside a damn monk. He thinks we’ll be scared of that? Ridiculous. Tell him to try it. But stop taking those mission requests from the Wind Daimyo. There’s no need to risk our people so far away from our home for some greedy man who thinks he’s hot shit because he owns a whole lot of sand.”

Hashirama snickered despite himself.

“What else. Tobirama. I’ll deal with that—ah, I know,” Madara waved off Hashirama’s attempt at objection. “I don’t mean _I’ll_ try to talk to him. Izuna gets along with him, you grant that?”

Hashirama nodded begrudgingly.

“Very well. I talk to Izuna; Izuna talks to Tobirama; Tobirama talks to Izuna, who tells me, and then I tell you. Sorted?”

“It could work…”

“As for the enraged tomato,” Madara continued, “I suggest you wash your face off, shake the dust out of your hair, go home, and take a nap with your son. In fact, plan on a nap with him every day. Meanwhile, I’ll get started on some of the rest of this. And as for the seal holding the Nine Tails, you’re just going to have to depend on Mito for that.”

Hashirama sighed. “I know I can depend on her, I just worry… I mean, we’re talking about my wife and my child… but a nap does sound good…”

“Better to nap at home then on your inkstone. And she could give birth any week now, right? You need to be at your full strength when she does.”

“You’re right.” Hashirama stood up. “I’m lucky to have a little brother like you.”

“Little brother…” Madara sputtered. “We’re the same age.”

“I am older though.”

“Barely!”

“A few months is not barely.”

“It is barely!”

“Still older! Still older! Hahaha!”

———

Madara had told Hashirama that he would talk to Izuna about Tobirama, and he did intend to do that, but the notion of Tobirama being “up to something” that he was hiding even from his brother made Madara very suspicious. Before talking to Izuna, he thought he would start with a little surveillance.

This would be a challenge, because Tobirama was the best sensor Madara had ever faced. Ordinary concealment of his chakra wouldn’t fool Tobirama at the kind of short range that Madara would need to be in to spy on him.

However, Tobirama himself had invented the jutsu Madara needed. Madara grinned as he formed the single seal to create a Shadow Clone, a particularly robust one that he had given more than half of his chakra. His clone let his chakra flare slightly to mimic Madara’s natural resting chakra rate, and went off on a walk towards Tobirama’s lab. Madara applied a henge to make himself look like a civilian, suppressed his chakra as much as he could, and followed.

When the real Madara moved swiftly and silently into the building, he watched through a window as his clone walked just a little further down the street and turned into a tea house. Then, doubling his chakra suppression, he crept towards where he could sense the presence of both Tobirama and Izuna. He hadn’t been in the research facility much, but he was pretty sure he remembered a vantage point that would allow him to hear, and possibly see them.

He saw far more than he wanted to see.

“Tobirama… T-tobirama, fuck that’s good…!”

No big brother should have to see his little brother’s O-face, and Madara quickly retreated to avoid just that. His mind was a whirl.

Involved with _Tobirama?_  Izuna had never seemed particularly interested in girls, but Madara thought he was still young… was _this_ the secret that Tobirama was hiding from Hashirama? That Izuna would keep such a thing from Madara made more sense, since Madara’s mutual hatred with Tobirama was infamous. But Hashirama liked and respected Izuna.

Madara felt a weird sense of outrage. How dare Tobirama act like Izuna was a shameful secret?! _Tobirama_ was the shameful one! Not Izuna! What could Izuna possibly find attractive in that humourless pale bastard?

Then he got another surprise when he walked back into the tea shop and saw that Sakura was seated across from his clone, happily accepting a dish of dango from the waitress.

The clone Madara gave his disguised real self a mute look of entreaty over her head. The real Madara shrugged and took a seat nearby. He would just have to wait for an opportune moment to get away and dismiss the clone.

Watching himself with Sakura, and Sakura with himself, was another odd experience. He wondered if the clone was really as exact a replica of himself as Tobirama claimed. Surely he never looked so stupid and awkward as that, staring at his tea cup instead of his table companion. Sakura didn't seem to notice anything amiss, however. She was all sunny smiles and frankly, the way she was eating her dango could only be described as flirtatious, despite his clone's inability to look at her for more than a few seconds at a time.

When they paid up and left, the staff began to titter.

"Uchiha-sama is such a masterful man most of the time," one said, "but he certainly acts like a little boy with his wife!"

"That's not true!" Madara protested without thinking, and then,when everyone turned to him in surprise, improvised. "I mean, he's just a very private man. Just because he's guarded in public doesn't mean anything."

"Guarded!" scoffed another waitress. "More like chicken, I think."

"Well, I did hear that Hashirama-sama said that he has a shy bladder, you know, so maybe—"

"Hashirama told about that?!?" Madara was too angry and embarrassed to care that he was blowing his cover. He slammed some money for the half-drunk tea down and took off, following his clone's chakra signature.

Back in the Uchiha compound, the real Madara felt his clone dismiss himself when Sakura left to wash up, and he quickly dropped his henge and darted inside. The concentrated memory of how awkward the clone had felt hit his already embarrassed mood. Madara was incensed with himself. He was not going to act like a little boy! He was a masterful man!

So when Sakura came back, he strode up to her, masterfully, and kissed her. 

It was not, objectively, the best kiss in history, since Madara's knowledge of kissing was all theoretical and mostly a vague idea of pressing lips to other lips. Sakura, however, seemed entirely overwhelmed by it. Her body froze to a moment then went relaxed all at once in his embrace as her eyes fluttered shut. One hand clutched at his robe while the other delicately fingered his hair.

Her lips were soft, and she must not have washed her face because there was just a hint of the sticky sweet dango in her scent. When he broke the kiss, her big green eyes opened slowly, staring up at his dark ones in wonder.

"Shannaro!" she said appreciatively.

It went a long way towards soothing his ego.

———

Madara was right that he was no longer a little boy. But though he had as much claim as anyone in the elemental nations to being masterful, the fact was that the first digit of his age had not yet rolled over. He was, no matter how little he cared to dwell on it, still technically a teenager.

He had thought of himself as a man when he got married, and his wife was now the same age as when that happened… but she was, also, actually, a teenager.

And as it turned out, they fell in love like teenagers: fumbling, impulsive, long-awaited and yet still shocking.

Madara, eager to justify his lack of experience before she could notice it for herself, explained to Sakura that among the Uchiha, sexual license was _not_ permitted like it was among the men of other clans. Enemies would be sure to attempt to gain an Uchiha bastard for themselves that way. Why, he had even been taught that for self-pleasure one needed to ejaculate into something and then burn it…

“Self-pleasure?” she interrupted. “How does that work?”

That a small hand somehow felt better than a large hand was another surprise.

———

“Izuna…”

“Yes, nii-san?”

“…tell Tobirama that Hashirama is worried about him.”

“Tobirama-san knows, but it’s complicated…”

“You don’t… have to act like you call him Tobirama-san…”

“…Oh.”

“You’re my brother, right? Even if you have bad taste… hey, hey, don’t hit me. Just… get him to put Hashirama at ease soon. Hashirama’s under a lot of stress with the baby coming and the last thing he needs is to be worrying that his asshole brother is attempting to raise an army of undead or worse, when it’s really just _you_ he’s hiding.”

“…I told him to keep it secret because… nii-san, the clan is still assuming you’ll take a concubine and I’ll take a wife… if my taking a wife seems less likely, they’ll lean harder on you to take a concubine.”

“Hn. Let them lean.”

———

Hashirama’s daughter came into the world with her wails drowned out by the noise of battle.

At the time, Mito was crouched down with her hands leaving deep bruises in the arms of her younger sister while a Senju elder midwife caught the baby. The ribs of Madara’s Susano’o formed an impenetrable defence around them all, but it meant that Madara himself had to stay put, while every part of him yearned to be out dancing in battle next to Hashirama.

War had come, not from Reta and his Sand village in the west, but from a loose alliance between a number of ninja from the coastal countries to the east, under the direction of a demagogue named Heki. Anti-kekkei genkai sentiment had been simmering for some time there, and apparently Heki had worked them up into a frenzy from some crazy idea that the pregnant jinchuuriki wife of Hashirama of the Wood Release would give birth to a literal monster.

_I’m counting on you._ That’s what Hashirama had told him.

Blood leaked from the corners of his eyes as Madara manipulated the arms of his Susano’o, slicing another enemy to bits. At first they had come at Mito continuously, but their numbers were seriously depleted now. Victory was in sight.

A loud signal pierced the air.

About ten minutes passed without any attackers, but Madara kept the ribcage up, though a film had formed over his vision and his temples were throbbing.

_I’m counting on you._

The newborn had dark hair like Hashirama and funny little whisker marks on her cheeks. The midwife was holding the baby while Sakura and Mito worked to restabilize the seal holding the Nine Tails.

Then Hashirama appeared, with a stranger trussed up in his wooden bindings. “Madara!” he called. “We’ve won. You can drop the Susano’o.”

Madara deactivated his eyes and wiped the blood from his cheeks. The blurry film in his vision did not clear up.

Hashirama left the bound stranger on the ground as he ran up to them. “Are you alright? Is the baby alright?”

“Yes,” said Mito, though her husband was already overwhelming her with his healing chakra. “Is Isshi-kun safe?”

“Tobirama is protecting the children and civilians,” he answered. “We don’t have to worry. Besides, they were after you.”

The midwife silently offered the child to Hashirama, who took the baby girl wrapped in a blanket. She was quiet now and alert. Her father smiled tiredly at her.

“Not a tomato this time, eh Madara?” he said.

“Hn.”

Hashirama walked with the infant in his arms over towards the bound enemy.

“Hashirama, wait—” Mito cried out, but he waved his free hand at her and she subsided, biting her lip.

Hashirama, the God of Shinobi, crouched down in the dirt next to his humiliated opponent.

“Look, Heki,” he said. “This is what you came here to kill. My baby daughter.”

The Kiri nin said nothing.

“She’s just a baby,” Hashirama continued. “She is completely ignorant of the ways of this world. She doesn’t even have a name.”

Still no response.

“Having children, it’s kind of a hope for the future, don’t you think? ‘Yes, I want humanity to go on.’ That’s what we say to the universe when we create a new life.”

“Monsters like you aren’t human,” Heki said suddenly and savagely. “There’s no coexisting with you.”

“I don’t believe that,” Hashirama said quietly. “Even a monster can become a friend, if one returns love for hatred and blessing for curse.”

As Hashirama said blessing - _megumi_ \- the baby let out a little noise.

Hashirama laughed. “Megumi? Is that a good name for you, little one? Megumi-chan.” He straightened up. “I think, my friend, instead of coming here and attempting to kill people to protect your children, you should go back to your home and cherish them, nurture them, guide them. If you come here again, I will stop you again. Now go.”

The wood bindings pulled the man into the forest.

“Hashirama-nii-sama,” Sakura called worriedly, “check Madara-sama’s eyes, please.”

———

“According to the legends of our clan,” Madara said grumpily, “the only way to use Mangekyou powers without going blind is if the eyes were replaced with the Mangekyou of a close relative. But I’m not going to do that.”

The blurry film over his vision had still not cleared up. He had let Sakura cajole him into going to the new hospital she and Mito were setting up with Hashirama. The three of them were making new discoveries in medical ninjutsu daily. Unfortunately, that meant Sakura had discovered just how much his vision had deteriorated. Now a group of them had got together to talk about it.

“Nii-san, my vision will surely one day deteriorate too,” said Izuna. “Doesn’t it make sense for one of us to keep his vision rather than both of us going blind?”

“Perhaps I can create some artificial eyes…” mused Tobirama.

Madara’s clan pride reared up. “You couldn’t replicate Sharingan.”

“Wait a minute,” Sakura said, “Is that all the legend says? That you have to take your brother’s eyes?”

“Yes… well, it could be a brother, or a parent or even… there are dark stories in our clan about rogue members killing their own child to get the Eternal Mangekyou… but more commonly it has been rivalries between brothers and half-brothers. it’s part of the reason why the Mangekyou itself is treated with as much suspicion as respect in our clan,” explained Izuna.

“But since you both have it, couldn’t you take his and he take yours?” Sakura said.

Izuna looked at Madara.

Madara looked at Izuna.

Sakura crossed her arms. “I mean, I can’t be the first person to have thought of this…?”

———

“Nine beasts. Five great nations. Not to mention the other Hidden Villages. You see the simple difficulty in mathematical terms,” Hashirama said to the Kage summit.

“There is no difficulty at all,” rasped Reta, the Kazekage. “The small nations can choke. The rest of the great nations can have two each, and you cut me a payment for the value of one Tailed Beast.”

“Ridiculous!” shouted the Tsuchikage.

Madara listened to all their quibbling about prices and sabre-rattling about army sizes before finally cutting in.

“The idea that Hashirama and I had to create our village,” he said, “was to band together clans to form a single bargaining entity to set prices and ensure fair conditions for shinobi, and also to collaborate on training the young in a safe, _internal_ setting rather than a battlefield. And it’s such a good idea, no wonder you all copied it. But,” Madara raised his voice to prevent Reta’s outraged interruption, “but, though all of us in this room lived through the horrors that were our clans’ lives before the villages—low payments, often late or never made; impossible requests; total war that spared not even the youngest and sickliest; you could all list many more reasons why the old days were so horrible. We’ve improved our lot with the Hidden Villages. But are we so easily satisfied that we’ll continue dancing at the beck and call of the wealthy?”

The room hushed and stilled. Madara let the silence set in for a few moments before continuing.

“I don’t know about you, but it’s a damn shame to me that it took hundreds of years for a pair of kids to decide that they were sick of clan vs clan and wanted to make peace. Will it take hundreds of years more for another pair of children to denounce village vs village, nation vs nation?” Madara walked over to the door and slid the door open violently. It opened up onto a lovely, picture perfect scene of a traditional garden with koi pond. In the distance, terraced rice fields on hills could be seen. “Look! There is enough and _more_ than enough land and food and everything else for everyone in all the nations. Yet a greedy few take more than their share, and pay us a pittance to shed each other’s blood? Are we all such fools? No more, I say!”

His eyes unconsciously formed Eternal Mangekyou Sharingan. “Distribute the Tailed Beasts? No. Let us take their power and demand  _revolution._ ”

———

“…forty-seven, forty-eight, forty-nine… fifty. The count’s correct,” Sakura said cheerfully, ticking off a box. “We won’t need another payment from you until next year. And if you run into any financial trouble between now and then, you can apply for a reduction. Please remember to stop at the mission desk to confirm the dates of your caravans so we can arrange the guards.”

The merchant bowed.

“Nidaime-sama!” Tomoyo, one of his cousins, waved at him as she caught sight of Madara at the corner in his Kage robes. “Over here, over here!” She pointed at Sakura as he approached. “Make her go home! Her ankles are swelling!”

“They look worse than they feel!” Sakura said defensively as he fixed her with a stern look. “I’m perfectly capable of helping out with the tribute taking. I’m not doing any _heavy_ lifting.”

“I don’t like the way you specified _heavy_ lifting,” Madara said. “Especially since I know that your definition of heavy is not that of a reasonable person at the best of times. And you’re already lifting _two_ precious items.”

She huffed, and walked, or rather waddled, around the corner of the wagon to apparently continue her self-justification, but instead her husband simply lifted her pregnant body into his arms, like a bridal carry from a shotgun wedding.

“I’ll make sure she gets some rest,” he told Tomoyo over Sakura’s indignant squawk. “You’ll be fine from here?”

“Absolutely, Nidaime-sama.”

———

Madara had never imagined that he would be happy as a family man who rarely left his village, who let others do the bulk of the fighting. Yet that was what his term as primary Hokage turned out to be.

Some of the Uchiha clan elders were noisily unhappy about his domestic bliss. Madara had sired children on this political wife without even securing a proper "heir and a spare" on a concubine first! And as for his brother Izuna, he wouldn’t even hear of taking a wife at all!

But by this point, they found their voices the minority even among their own generation. Sakura-sama was an angel and a darling; the clan had never prospered more than under Madara-sama; and you old fools leave young Izuna-sama alone! Poor boy works himself to the bone helping Tobirama-sama in his laboratory. Why, the boy’s there all night more often than not.

Their first baby was a girl with hair as red and vibrant as the maple leaves that were just beginning to fall around Konoha. Her brother, born a few minutes later, had nothing but dark fuzz. The boy was smaller, and he would not be happy unless he had his twin within reach.

Red like the beautiful red leaves— _Momiji_ —of the Hidden Leaf village, and a brother who was always looking for his sister, like going Autumn Leaf Hunting: _momijigari._

Uchiha Momiji and Uchiha Gari. Perfect.

Except that Gari’s hair, when it did grow in, did not stay dark, but it was a decidedly pink shade like his mother’s… or like _gari,_ pickled ginger. Momiji, in contrast, had hair that gradually darkened until it almost blended in with the black hair of her clan.

The boy turned out as feisty and acerbic as pickled ginger as well, while his sister even in toddlerhood managed to make falling down on her diapered bottom look graceful. She also mastered the art of the delicate lip wibble that had Uncle Hashirama showering her with candy.

On a hot summer evening, the two toddlers were already asleep as Madara and Sakura sat on the porch sipping tea and listening to the cicada. It had been an exhausting week, welcoming more refugees from the east. The civil wars and persecutions and counter-persecutions still flared up among the coastal countries.

“I’m worried about Uzushio,” Sakura confessed suddenly. “Father says that everything is fine in his letters, but he is very stubborn.”

“My reports are that the area around Uzushio is rather calm right now,” Madara assured her. “The Yuki clan refugees who arrived today are from the far north of Water.”

“Ah… that’s good.” She set down her empty cup and leaned her head against his shoulder.

Madara smiled down at her and noticed that she was nodding off. He scooped up his sleepy matriarch and got her ready for bed before joining her on the futon. Even though he wasn’t tired, there was no where in the world he wanted to be except sharing such a simple, private peace with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end!!!
> 
> I hope to revisit this couple and universe soon for some one-shots or omake, but the major story here is done, and I planned for four chapters based on four pieces of yomi-gaeru's art.
> 
> The art is yet again by the amazing, wonderful, talent yomi-gaeru (Tumblr: yomi-gaeru Twitter: @yomi_gaeru Pixiv: 2328470) and is used with permission.


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